


All The Lights Are Off

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant, Justification, M/M, Non-consensual sex, Rape, Threats of Violence, Victim Blaming, but au, heterosexual Derek Hale, in season 3A, not Sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And if your father comes now this won't stop me. It won't.” His claws sink into his skin, a little deeper with every word. Stiles can feel the little tracks of blood curving around his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Lights Are Off

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt - Derek/Stiles non-con; Derek rapes Stiles, simple as that. No fuck or die scenario or evil!Derek. Just Derek from the show raping Stiles for whatever reason. That is all.
> 
> a/n: the fic is not edited; also the non-con is for both parties involved!

Stiles is dreaming, or at least he was. It was a nice dream, just him and a couple of playgirls in the pool. He can dream of water without screaming now. It took him a while, but he got there.

 

This weight, this warm, solid weight against his back is nice. It definitely isn't a playgirl material, but playboys work too. He isn't of the picky type, the more the marrier and all that jazz. However, there is something strange going on because there isn't any delicious grinding or anything at all really, just the weight pushing him down and a – and a voice calling him.

 

“Stiles. Stiles, wake up.”

 

Derek, why is he dreaming of Derek. It is not to imply that he hasn't, but him being all heterosexual with ms. Blake is a real thing now so he tries not to think of him, he really does.

 

“Stiles.” The weight is not moving, it isn't going anywhere really, just pushing him down and it gets a little disconcerting. That voice also isn't going anywhere and there is movement, he sways a little and then there is a slap. A fucking slap in his dream and it hurts!

 

He groans and tries to strike back, but he can't. He can't move his hands and he tugs harder, they are pinned uner his own body so he tries to roll over, but can't. He can't move anything and for a moment he thinks he is under water and Derek is here. They are drowning again!

 

There is an angry hiss in his ear.

 

“Wake up.” He isn't sleeping, he isn't sleeping then.

 

There is movement and Derek is sitting beside him, talking. He should wake up like right now.

 

“Give me your hands Stiles.” He frowns, his hands? But he can't- oh he can move now. He shifts a little and turns on his side. Dereks hands are callused, he didn't know werewolves can have callouses. He takes his arms and cuffs them with-, he cuffs him!

 

Stiles is wide awake now and tries to sit, but Derek pushes him back down forcefully. He stays down.

 

“What is happening Derek? What the fuck are you doing?” He hisses through clenched teeth. “Are you possessed? You aren't De-” his pajama's bottom and boxers are pushed down at once and he tries to kick back, but Derek manages to take them off and _what is even happening here?!_

 

Stiels twists trying to look at him, but can't see more than a silhouette. The lights are off.

 

“Derek what are you doing?” He tries again. “Why am I getting naked in the fucking middle of the night? What's with the pants down and what the-” There is a metal clicking. He squints his eyes and if he wasn't that focused he would miss them. Derek's hands are on his belt, unbuckling it, then the zipper is lowered down. It sounds deafening and he thinks that screaming would be an appropriate reaction after all. Werewolf or not Derek is not allowed to get naked in his room, unless there isn't a major blood loss and wolfsbane involved.

It's not that type of situation.

 

Derek pushes his jeans and underwear in one swift motion. His limp dick is hanging there and Stiles can't unsee it and doesn't want to because it's weird, but also awesome. And then, the dick is swinging as Derek walks forward, not even bothering with his shirt as he sits on the bed, his hand is on Stiles's back moving up and down his spine.

 

Stiles clears his throat and twists around to look at him. He tucks his arms underneath his torso and pushes up enough to look at his face. Derek's mouth is a thin line and his nostrils flare as he breaths in, carefully.

 

“I am sorry Stiles. I wish I wish for it to not be necessary, but it is.” Stiles tries to meet his eye, but can't. Derek is looking at his sheets, his hand is still moving as he talks.

 

“I hate that I've to do this, but I can't lose you Stiles. I can't lose anyone, Erica was the last one. No more.” Stiles feels claws as Derek's fingers close around his neck. The sharp nails clicking together as he squeezes for a moment. “You are a virgin and there are virgins dying, sacrifices are being made and you could be next.”

 

Stiles feels his eyes stinging and his ribcage is heaving. He breaths, he has to breathe.

 

“But you don't even like me that way.” That much is obvious his dick is still soft, just lying there in between his thighs. “Why are you doing this? Do you hate me that much?” His throat closes and he can't ask, can't speak.

 

Derek's arm is trembling as he lets go of him, he cups his face and sucks in a deep breath. “Because I have to. You can die Stiles, it's like you don't get it.” He sounds angry now. Stiles looks at him for a second, his eyes are glowing. “You could have done something. You know for a whole week now and you just stand there waiting for that thing to kill you.”

 

He's right. He didn't do anything, but not because he wants to die.

 

“Derek I won't die. You can protect me. You protect me as do Scott and Isaac. Boyd slept here the other night. It won't get to me.”

 

“And what if it does. What if you die here in your own bed sleeping and they couldn't do a thing!?” He knows he is right has been thinking about it, but what is he supposed to do, just pick up some stranger and have sex with him. Like, it won't be even sex it will be just wham bam thank you for the devirginization man.

 

“It is supposed to be more than that Derek. It isn't-”

 

“But you don't have time Stiles. We don't have time!” There is this edge to his words and Stiles knows there's no talking him out of it, but he tries anyway.

 

“Please Derek. Please. I can't- I don't want you to. I -” He cries now. He bends forward trying to hide the tears as he feels his hand dipping lower, caressing him. He just lies there, trembling, sobbing.

 

“Please Derek I will go the jungle you- you don't have to do this. Please don't.” Sties chocks and can't he just can't stay here and take it. He looks back and watches as Derek goes to his closet, opens a drawer and takes his bottle of lube. He looks at it. Derek is just standing there dead still staring at the bottle of lubrication in his hand.

 

His dick is still soft.

 

Stiles can't really see in the dark and the tears aren't helping either, he tries to make a run for it. He knows it's stupid, most likely futile, but he can't not do it. He rolls over and crashes on the ground, stands up quick and heads straight to the door. Derek is close tough. He is close enough to simply stretch out his hand and catch him.

 

Stiles is crying hard now, trying to breathe as he chocks on his own spit. He pushes him back, tries to make more between them. Tries to get enough room to maneuver.

 

He hits and pushes at his chest. His legs are trembling and there are tears and snot running down his face, but he can't think of anything save the bottle of lube Derek is still holding in his right hand.

 

“Please.” He would do anything. “Please Derek jus- p-please” He lets his body go limp hoping to catch him off guard, but it doesn't work.. Derek just gathers him, pulls him close and lifts him as if he weighs nothing at all.

 

He turns toward the bed.

 

It's, he can't, Stiles can't breathe, tries to scream. He can't. The words are pushed back down from his too tight throat, can't speak, can't scream.

 

He trashes and tries to pull away. Tries to hit Derek in the head as he is lying him down.

 

He can't do anything.

 

The bottle is now near his head and he tries to talk Derek out of doing this, of raping him. They both know what it is so he calls it. He tries to scream it, but founds a clawed palm squeezing his throat for a moment.

 

“Don't.” he looks at him. His eyes are red. “Don't do this Stiles. You know I have to. I know you will hate me tomorrow, but you will be alive.” His features are full of resolve now. “You won't die when I could have done something about it. Do you understand me!?” He does, he does understand, but it isn't fair. It isn't.

 

“And if your father comes now this won't stop me. It won't.” His claws sink into his skin, a little deeper with every word. Stiles can feel the little tracks of blood curving around his neck.

 

“Stay still. Let me do it this time, let me keep you alive.” Stiles wants to scream that it isn't fair. He doesn't want that! Not like that.

 

It isn't the same.

 

But he has no choice. No strength left to fight so he goes limp. He will not fight, but he will not condone it.

 

He will just-

 

He looks at the ceiling as he feels the bed dip. He kneels between his legs and takes the bottle.

 

 _one two three_ breath _four five seven_

 

He hears the click, the bottle is open. Now he will open him up, he will be careful. He is sure of it and this makes it somehow worse.

 

He rearranges his legs, pushes them flat on his bed and opens them wider. His fingers are slippery as they circle his hole. The press uncertain as he pushes in. It doesn't feel like anything he has ever done to himself.

 

There are no other touches, nothing. Just the fingers opening him. The squelch of the lube as he moves faster.

 

Stiles just- he isn't here. He is somewhere else and he just feels the phantom touches now. He won't remember he won't!

 

He will buy another bed.

 

There are three fingers in his ass now, scissoring. Derek is careful, so careful with him.

 

He pulls his fingers out and then he hears him talking, whispering really.

 

“Jenn. Oh, Jenn baby.” So, he also isn't here. He can live with that. Stiles hears the familiar sound of jacking of. He lubs himself then, it will be over soon. Not soon enough though.

 

Stiles closes his eyes as he feels him moving, bending forward. He will rape him this way, face to face. He won't see, he refuses to see. He feels his breath on his cheek as he leans down, the stretch in his own muscles as he lifts his legs higher, as he winds them around his chest. He breaths out as he pushes in and Stiles's breath hitches.

 

His arms tense as Derek tucks his head next to his own and starts to fuck into him.

 

He is gentle. He enters him inch by inch and then stops. Just stops for a couple of seconds and Stiles wants to scream get ot _getoutgetout_. He clenches his teeth and turns to the wall. He can't think of anything, anything else, at all.

 

His movements are shaky, unsure. As if he is doing this for the first time. And maybe he is, maybe Stiles is the first, the first lucky enough to be violated by Derek Hale in his own fucking bed!

 

He lifts his head a bit more, tries to fold himself and disappear into the strong body holding him down.

 

“ 'm sorry Stiles. So sorry, sorry.” He is still soft when Derek comes.

 

Stiles thinks he cries – Derek. His shoulder is wet and Derek's body is jerking on top of him. He takes a deep breath and leans back. Stiles's legs fall down and he lays there watching him. Derek's dick is still buried in him as he wipes furiously at his cheeks, he's crying then.

 

The bed dips as he leans back takes his dick in hand and slowly takes it out. Stiles can't help a wince, but otherwise stays silent and watches.

 

His eyes track Derek as he gets off of his bed. He dresses himself and stands in the middle of Stiles's bedroom with hunched shoulders.

 

He has no right, no right to feel that way. Not anymore.

 

Stiles turns around and curls around himself as good as he can. The window creaks as Derek slips out. He will find a way to take the plastic cuffs off later on.

 

Now, now he screams. Silently.


End file.
